Come Back
by Lyralamora
Summary: The story takes place after the game has ended, where both Ashe and Balthier struggles to make sense of their lives.
1. Chapter 1

This is a story I wrote some time ago. It's originally in four pieces, but since I've completed it, I thought I'd post it in two.

This is your typical sentimental love story, with the best FFXII-pairing: Balhiter & Ashe!

So I hope you enjoy, and please review. It would mean a lot!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Final Fantasy XII ...

Come back

Part 1

She was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, scrutinizing the intricate patterns. In five minutes one of her maids would come and wake her. In fifteen minutes she would pick yet another decent, pretty, white dress from her oversized wardrobe of pretty, white dresses. In an hour she would take her breakfast in the dining-room. It was Tuesday, which would mean some sort of soup. Things never changed around here. Or perhaps they did, only she'd grown too much of an adventurer to know.

She sat up and pulled back the white silk sheets. The sun shone brightly, as always. The curtains did a poor job of keeping the light out, so the entire room was completely lit. Therefore she always woke early. And in the minutesbetween waking and starting the day, she had some time to herself. Time to think, contemplate. She drew back the curtains, and let the sunbeams fill the room. Her skin, that had begun to get a darker shade during her quest to free Dalmasca, was once again milk white, now that she was confined to the palace. Who would have thought that one could suffer from lack of sun, while living in a dessert? She wrenched open the doors to the grand balcony. How liberating it was, to do these small, "rebellious" actions, like being careless and uncultivated whenever she was alone.

Was that now the sad extent of her freedom?

She walked to the edge of the balcony, resting her hands on the balustrade letting the sun caress her skin. It was warm. Not even a light breeze. Only the dry, torrid air. Her eyes flickered over the city below._ Her_ city. They lingered a while at the Bahamut, the ruin still lying there outside the city walls. The sight filled her with regret and self loathing. How could she have been so stupid? So ignorant in regards to her own emotions? She'd always thought herself to have such good insight. She shuddered at the thought of how much it had taken for her to understand how she felt.

"Come back," Ashe whispered.

Was it selfish of her? To want so much, when she already had more than most? It didn't matter anyway. She would never get a second chance. Not when she'd been too much of a coward to take the first.

"My lady," her maid said while peeking her head out through the door. "My lady, it's time to get dressed." She held the garment in her hands, looking slightly stressed. Ashe didn't answer, but turned her back on the sky and the sun.

"I'm coming."

The thing was, she had never wanted more than this. More than to rule. Be good and just watch her people thrive. Then she'd lost everything and gone to war. And in the midst of all the despair, losses and frustration, she'd gained something new. And she wasn't a princess any more, but a solider.

No longer a girl, but a woman.

***

"Balthier!" Vaan's whiny voice penetrated his dream, and he was brought back to consciousness. Was it really morning already? The bright sun that shone through the tiny window in the unsavory room he had rented for the night left no doubt. The light was not doing well for his blooming hangover, and he rolled around and moaned into the pillow.

"What?" he snapped to the young man lurking in the doorway. "What do you want?"

Was he being unfair? Perhaps. Vaan could after all not have known that he had interrupted his dream at a very pleasant point. But the combined feeling of disappointment and increasing sickness made it hard for him to be reasonable.

"It's Fran," the boy mumbled. "She told me to wake you because…" His voice faded away, and Balthier looked up in confusion.

"Because?"

Vaan merely gawked. Balthier turned to see what was so highly interesting and was suddenly face to face with a girl he recognized as a waitress. What in Ivalice was she doing in his bed? He was too drunk to remember. Quickly recollecting his thoughts, he turned back to Vaan.

"Not a word of this to Fran! You hear me?"

The boy nodded at once, eager not to get on the edge with his "mentor".

"Fran sais she has news you might be interested in." He was about to leave, but turned in the doorway, looking back.

"By the way, I think she already knows. She didn't say anything. But she had that _look_. You now…"

Downstairs they were all waiting for him. Vaan was chatting animatedly with a fellow pirate. He and Penelo where adjusting to pirate life at last. Balthier had had his doubts that the day would ever come. But they'd made him proud. As it was, he was in no fit state to take care of anyone. In fact, they had started to take care of him of late. He had become dangerously sloppy. He sat down without a word and waved away the plate of food that was offered him.

"I've got news," Fran said, her voice the usual monotone.

"So I've heard," was his only answer.

"A new hunt has been put up. Rare game."

"And you think it's the one we've been looking for?"

"The description fits."

"Where was it spotted?" ha asked, for the first time real interest in his voice.

"At the Ridorana Carthrackt."

"Oh"

"Something wrong?" Penelo asked.

"No," he answered immediately. "Just glad that this will soon be behind us, that's all."

Penelo and Vaan exchanged a confused glance. How very out of character.

The thing was that when this job was finished, there would come a new one. And then another one. He felt as though he was working to accomplish something, to reach a goal. But in truth he had no purpose. Not anymore.

Balthier was a changed man. Perhaps nobody could see it, but he was changed. It was not his nonchalant demeanor, nor his uncommonly handsome looks that where different. No, it was something not so concrete. Not something he could put his finger on. But rather, he feared, a more fundamental change.

***

The meetings where usually dreary, but at the moment Ashe regretted that this was not to be an ordinary day. She had been in the dining room, eating her breakfast, sensing nothing amiss. And then, all of a sudden, one of her ministers had sent word that her fiancée would arrive that very afternoon. That Ashe was not, as far as she knew, engaged, did not seem to be a problem.

"What on Ivalce is this?" she said, as she strode into the conference room in a most un-ladylike manner. "One of your messengers has just given me word that I'm to receive my fiancée this afternoon." Her eyes where blazing with anger. The voice like steel. The minister in question did, however, not flinch. In fact, he seemed quite at ease with the situation.

"I know this to be some sort of joke, because obviously I'm not engaged. Nevertheless I've come here to inquire. Now tell me," she boomed into the silent room, "what's going on?"

Ashe had thought that as the rightful heir to the throne, that there would be no doubt about her authority. And after everything she'd done, she thought some respect wouldn't be too much to ask as well. She knew how things worked. She knew her country and her people. But she had been ridiculously ignorant of the more underhanded side of ruling. The blackmailing, the power play.

"Your majesty," the minister replied, too calmly in Ashe's opinion. "Surely you understand that it's time for you to get married. Dalmasca needs an heir as quickly as possible."

"I concur." She was barely able to control her temper. "But I will not have some man pressed upon me. After all, I am the Queen here. And it is not up to you to decide when or with whom I marry."

She stood there; a lonely figure in the vast room, attempting to stare down the man in front of her.

"You are aware that when you marry, it will be with someone that's suitable. It will be for political reasons, not sentimental. You may have been lucky with your first marriage. But do not expect the same luxury this time. Therefore we spared you the trouble of finding a man, and picked the best match ourselves. You are not formally engaged, of course, but we expect it to happen shortly." He leaned back in his seat, hands folded over his large belly. She wanted to leap over the desk and give this obnoxious politician what was coming to him. But no, she would have to be composed. Therefore, she simply turned around and walked stiffly out of the room. Defeated.

Part Two

Balthier imagined himself to be drifting. Like a leaf in the wind. Though perhaps, something slightly less romantic. In any case, he had given up control. He was detached, in perfect solitude. Life simply swept him in one direction, then another, and he did not have the strength to change course. And why would he? This purposeless life was relaxing. He did not quite know why he was standing in this ruin. Nor who had brought them there. But the smell of the sea and the sound of waves required no such explanations in order to be enjoyed. He closed his eyes and let the other senses engulf him. He was so light. Empty. Somewhere inside him, he sensed that the passivity could not go on. And in a place filled with such memories, could he resist feeling? Could he hold the sentimentality at bay?

"Balthier," Vaan's screams of excitement kept him from answering his own question. "Balthier, could you come and look at this? I'm not sure I've tied it right."

He had tied it right. Balthier did not need to look at it to know. He recognized their scheme. Trying to make him feel useful. He trotted back nonetheless, and gave the knot an approving nod.

He turned away from the restless waves and let his gaze fall upon the ruin in front of him instead. The Pharos at Ridorana, a beautiful construction that rose towering over them. Whoever had built this thing must have been an uncommonly good engineer. It was, after all, a very long time ago. Now it was empty. Dead. Save the monsters, that where lurking around every corner. It made him a little depressed. The thought that everything, no matter how splendid something might be, crumples and fades if not taken care of.

They braced themselves for what was about to come. It was not necessary to bring much, but they needed the usual supply of potions and remedies, along with their weapons. They were all unusually silent. For Fran that was as expected, but Vaan and Penelo usually distributed a decent amount of noise wherever they went. He then recalled that he was not the only one with strong emotional memories here. So much had happened. The ruined top of the building, a scar in the otherwise smooth stone tower, kept reminding them. Reddas, Dr. Cid. And Ashe, her final decision. It affected them all as they made their way up the cataract, ever closer to their waiting pray.

***

It would be too late now, she thought as she stared up at the Bahamut. To late to return. Because no matter how upset it made her, what her minister had said made sense. Dalmasca was at last at peace, and the last thing her weary citizens needed was some dispute over the crown in case she should die. Her fingers entwined into the fabric of her light dress. She let it go and looked down at her left hand, the one with the ring. She would need to take it off now. It would not be proper. She bit her lip to withhold the tears as she pried it off her finger. Should she throw it? Why not? It was a mere trinket, and it was not as though he would return. Nether of them. But for all the lost love and disappointment it brought with it, she could not bear the thought of losing it. The ring was after all the only thing to remind her of what it felt like to love.

Down on the main street that led up to the palace, she spotted an escort. Lord Amaranth, no doubt. Her housebound, her king, her lover to be. She sighed as she felt the sensation of surrender creep into her. There was nothing more to fight for. No kingdom to save. No lost love to call back.

"Come back," she whispered nonetheless. One last time. He would not have made a good king anyway.

He waited for her in the hall, her dashing suitor and his escort. He was a pleasant enough fellow of about thirty, steadfast, patient and stubborn. At the moment, he stood waiting, his gaze on her, as she walked down the staircase to receive him.

"Your Majesty," he said as he bowed ceremoniously.

"Your Grace," she retorted. "Shall we go directly to the conference room?" she asked as he offered her his arm.

He lifted an inquiring eyebrow.

"Surely there's no point in postponing the reason for your visit?"

"Your frankness does you credit. You're right, there's no point in pretence." There was clear respect in his voice as he guided her up the stairs.

"Good. I don't like to play games."

He laughed lightly. "Then life at court can hardly suit Your Majesty."

She smiled back at him in earnest. "You know," she said as they made their way through the palace. "I think we shall get along very well."

It was an honest statement, though it made her no happier. They walked in silence, her hand on his arm, the new ring-pendant resting cold and unfamiliar against her skin.

***

What made a skypirate? He had used to take it for granted, but of late the question had begun to trouble him. Was it really just the airship and the stealing? Or was the hunger for freedom and the lack of norms just as important? Balthier was sitting in the Strahl's cockpit, doing what he did best. Piloting his ship was as natural as lifting a limb. It came as easy as breathing. He was grateful for it; at least something of his old self that would never change. Vaan and Penelo had gone to sleep, worn out by the day's challenges. They had killed the rare game, secured the cup, and were now on their way towards Rabanastre. Fran was sitting in the chair next to him, scrutinizing the dark sky. His hands flew over the buttons and shifts in loving motions. He was so taken with his task that he did not notice Fran's eyes shift and linger on him instead. At last she broke the silence.

"Balthier?"

"Mmm," he mumbled.

"When will you reach your decition?"

The peculiar question made him look up at her, finally fully attentive.

"Whatever do you mean, Fran?"

She scrutinized him in a manner that made him feel uncomfortable. Not that there was anything implied with the glance. They did not, after all, have that kind of relationship. But she had always been able to see through him, and he did not need a confrontation at the moment.

"When will you decide what course to follow?"

He honestly had no idea what she referred to, so he just stared dumbly at her.

"She asked you to come back. Do you not recall?"

Yes, he recalled. The last thing he had heard before the Bahamut had collapsed. And also the last thing he had expected to hear. He simply nodded, not daring to speak in case his voice should break.

"I think it's time you made a choise. Not only for your own peace of mind, but for ours."

"I have. I'm here, am I not? With you, not with her."

"But you're not though, are you?" she protested. "In your mind, you're always somewhere else. Somewhere I can't follow."

Balthier wanted so badly to keep silent. To shut things in, as he had grown so accustomed to. But this was Fran, and so he could not lie. In any case, she deserved more than that.

"I… just can't go back to the way things used to be, Fran. I can't go back to this. To a life without a purpose. It's… not what happened."

She didn't answer, partly because she didn't need to, but mostly because she was sad. She had known when they had teamed up that this would not last forever. He was a Hume, after all. And now the time had come, and he would leave her and his freedom. But, she contemplated, in a way he already had.


	2. Chapter 2

_Here you go! The third part. Enjoy!! _

_I'm not completely certain about the raiting, to it's possible that this one shoud have an M raiting. I'm sorry if it's rated wrong. _

**Disclaimer:** _I do not own Final Fantasy XII. Not even Balthier ...*Sigh*_

Part 3

The streets where still buzzing, even after dark. As the newlyweds made their way up on the roof to watch the firework presentation, the cheer of the crowd rose once again. After their hasty engagement, there had been very little time for wedding preparations. Still, Ashe was impressed by the beauty and grandeur of it all. At her last wedding she had been too distracted to notice. But, she contemplated, this time she would at least be able to appreciate the efforts the people around her had put into this, and the fireworks were truly impressive.

They stood in silence, just watching. Amaranth, however, soon left her. Perhaps he sensed her total indifference to his presence. In any case, she was grateful that he did not force his company upon her. He just lightly pecked her cheek and left her to savour the fireworks alone. It filled the sky with multitudes of colours that lit up the darkness around her. The patterns changed and spiralled over the sky, and even though the thin fabric of her wedding gown was not enough to keep the wind out and she could feel goose bumps crawl up her skin, she was too swept away by the beauty to care.

It was cooler once the sun had set, and a light wind tugged at her veil and the feather ornament on her head. At one point, she even had to hold on to them, so that the wind would not sweep them away. She did not often go up on the roof. There wasn't very much room, but the view was breathtaking. She even got a bit dizzy when she leaned over the banister and looked down. The wind took advantage of her momentary distraction, and suddenly she could feel the long, white chiffon veil being tugged out of her hair. She spun around automatically and groped for it in the dark. It did not, however, go very far. Someone had caught it and stood now only feet away from her in the darkness.

The shock to find someone standing so closely behind her rendered her completely speechless. Her first thought was that the stranger was some assassin. She therefore opened her mouth to scream, knowing that her guards where always close by, but the stranger was too fast. He reached her within seconds, his hand suddenly resting on her mouth. She froze, not daring to move, but kept staring at the stranger, waiting. Then a new round of fireworks lit up the sky, and she saw him.

***

This was not what he had planned. Not what he had planned at all. He had thought the roof a good place to present himself, but he had not counted on the veil. To keep her from calling the guards, he then had to go even further. By now he had probably scared her out of her wits. He could see it in her expression, mingled with shock and anger.

"Balthier," she whispered in a shaky voice. He said nothing, just stood there looking at her. She was as paralyzed for a few more moments. But then: "Balthier," she said again, a little louder this time. Then she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

"Balthier, Balthier," she kept on silently whispering.

It was now his turn to be shocked, and it took a while for him to react. When he finally did, he hugged her close and fiercely, savouring the moment, because she would probably throw him off the roof once she had come to herself. And quite rightly. A moment later she broke the hug, tugged the veil from his hand, and stood up.

"Balthier, what are you doing here? Crashing my wedding?"

He understood this to be her way of reminding him that she was married. But that had really never been a noteworthy obstacle.

"Can't an old friend simply offer his congratulations?"

She didn't answer, but turned away to once more look up at the sky.

"It's beautiful, is it not," he whispered in her ear.

"I suppose you know all about that, pirate. I myself do not have the time to gaze at the sky."

"You are now," he retorted. She didn't answer, probably to avoid the verbal sparring it no doubt would have caused. Balthier lifted his hand, took the veil back and began to place it in her hair.

"Please don't do that," she asked softly. "It's been a long day. My head is so heavy from all the ornaments. It hurts."

So instead of placing it back on, he lifted his hand and began to pry out the feathers and the diadem. She stood quite still and let him. He then let his hand entwine in her hair, marvelling at the softness. Once again she did not object but stood very still.

"Why have you come back, Balthier?" she asked.

Because he could not come up with another answer, but mostly because he had wanted to for so long, he spun her around and kissed her. It was hasty and uncoordinated. His lips crashed hard against hers, pulling her closer. The pearly pink lips where soft, and she tasted like wine and salt. He expected her to break, to end it at any moment. But then her hand was in his hair, her lips moving against his. She kissed him. He was kissed. But even though there where nothing between them now, it was still as though they where separated. Perhaps it was her unattainability that he was so used to and could not quite shake. Or perhaps the unfamiliarity of a known face, suddenly so close. But then he let his tongue stroke over her lower lip, and parted them gently. At the feeling of one moist muscle against another, she let out a little sigh of surrender.

And then, nothing could separate them. The surprise only made him more eager. He let his hands stroke down her neck, caressing the soft, milk white skin. The other hand he placed on the small of her back, pulling her even closer. The thin fabric of her dress concealed very little, as he took in the feel of her body so close to his. He let his hand slide down, squeezing her buttocks. It caused a new little, satisfying gasp. Then she broke away, placing one hand on his chest, and pushed lightly. She looked at him in a way that was completely new. It did not, however, last for long. Her impatience must have been as great as his, because she found his hand and tugged him after her through the darkness.

He had not taken time to explore the roof, but it seemed as though there was a garden on it. And in the midst of the garden, a little greenhouse, which was now their destination. She wrenched open the door and pulled him in. She seemed to want to go further into the house, but by then Balthier had had enough. He prevented her from getting any further by simply pinning her body against the closest shelf. He then silenced any possible objections with a new series of kisses. Her hands found the small of his back, beginning to tug impatiently at the clasps that held his vest together, and soon she had removed it. She then proceeded to pull of his shirt, breathing heavily. Once it was off she let a hand stroke maddeningly light over his muscled chest. While she kissed and stroked him, he placed his hands on her hip, lifting her up on the shelf. With expert movements he had soon removed the upper parts of her dress, leaving her breast bare. The skin was as white as the rest of her body, with the pink of her nipple standing out in the darkness. He trailed a line of kisses over her breasts, down to them, and then began to nibble lightly. Another moan, and she pulled him closer, hands clasped around his neck. She moved her attention from his face, and began licking and nibbling his ear. She continued with this while her hands left his neck and began undoing his pants. Soon, with the eager help of Balthier, they were off. He then pulled her dress a little further up, and let his hand stroke down her thigh, letting his thumb stroke the inside. It was almost like a game had erupted between them. A game that would only end when one of them would not be able to resist any longer.

"Balthier," she gasped, as his fingers reached the sensitive skin between her legs and dipped inside. At the sound of her arousal, Balthier was the first to break. He pushed her even harder against the shelf, pressing his erection against her moist skin. At the comforting fact of arrival they became a little calmer at first. Then a new sort of frenzy began. The shelf creaked as they moved hard against it. Ashe tried to stifle her moans in the crock of his neck. He then continued his attentions with one free hand, and began stroking her most sensitive skin. This made her forget all about silence, and she tilted her head back and gasped loudly. The pace quickened, along with their breathing. Balthier closed his eyes, thrusting. Only aware the soft warmth that engulfed him and his lover's low cries of delight. Sparkling colours erupted behind his lids, as he was driven to the edge. Finally the clench or her muscles and her breath in his ear pushed him over.

They were perfectly still for a little while, waiting to regain control over their muscles. As their breathing slowed and the calm daze of after-sex bliss filled them, he leaned back and looked at her. His face was so beautiful and calm as he spoke the three words no amount of clichés can ever quite cheapen. He then lightly kissed her, and pulled out. She was too content and surprised to collect her mind enough to answer, but let him refasten her dress and his trousers. It struck her what power he must have over her, as he had made her abandon her wedding night with a royal for a pirate. She laughed a little.

"What's the joke?" he asked.

"I was just thinking of how easily you got your way. I had to marry for you to come back, while you only had to show your face in order to get what you want."

She didn't think much on what she said, to happy and warm to bother. But Balthier looked quizzical.

"What do you mean?"

"Surely, you only came back now that you know I'm tied to this place."

Something seemed to dawn on his face, but she felt too dazed to keep up with him. So she slid down of the shelf and went over to him, resting her head on his chest.

"You think I returned only to sleep with you?"

She sighed.

"You're a pirate. I never expected you to want this kind of responsibility. But I'm all right with that. After all, I thought you would never come back."

He froze a little then pulled her back.

"I came back because it took me this long to realize what I want. It was not evasion or cowardice. I love you, and would have gladly taken up the task of rule, it that was what it required." The sleepy spell seemed broken, and his eyes were fierce.

"Well, it's too late. I'm married now."

"So Dalmasca is safe. And you can come with me."

"Wait," she asked, tensing up. "You came here to steal me?"

"Why not?" he asked. "You don't belong on a throne. Just as little as I belong in a judges' armoire. Come with me. You have given Dalmasca her freedom. Don't you think it's time you had something in return?"

She did not know if it was the simple matter of habit that made his painfully true words seem so impossible.

"I will not leave my duty for a purposeless life as a pirate," she said in a rage.

"It will not be purposeless. Not as long as you have something to live for. Someone for whom you fight," he augmented in a most un-Balthier like manner.

"Well, I don't," was her last words, as she ran out of their little haven. She ran across the roof and to the door that led down to the palace and her housebound. He didn't follow her.

***

_Yeah, okay, I know I said that I would make this story in two chapthers, but then what would be the point of the cliffie? But no worries, the last chapters will be up by tomorrow! _


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, here's the last part. Hope you like it! _

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own final fantasy XII ... _

Part 4

He could not hate her. He wished he could. It would make everything so much simpler, but nonetheless, he wasn't able to. Besides, if she hadn't been so strong and independent, he wouldn't have loved her in the first place. He could not hate what he loved the most. No matter how staggering the grief.

The glass door swung open, and a gust of cold breeze chilled his half-dressed body. Slowly, he began tugging the vest on place. He had thoughts only for she who had just left him—and the jug of beer waiting for him in the closest bar. He felt used, but, since he really was in no position to throw accusations of that kind, he dismissed the thought.

A sound brought him out of his self pity, and he was made aware of the guards that were now appearing through the roof door. Damn it! Had she been angry enough to reveal him? He certainly thought her capable. And what was more, there was nowhere to escape. He was trapped. Trapped in a greenhouse.

"Hey!" a guard yelled. "Hey! Is there someone in there?"

In his usual nonchalant demeanour, Balthier stepped out through the door.

"What are you doing here? This is a private area."

"I was just admiring the desert rose. What else?" he said as he stepped out in the light.

"Wait a minute," the guard said, as something seemed to dawn on him. "You're not on the guest list."

Suddenly the air was filled with the sound of unsheathed swords.

"Oh, damn it. I who had hoped to steal that blasted flower," he joked.

It did nothing to lighten the mood of the solders that pushed him to the ground. They tied his hands, and someone knocked him in the face for good measure.

"Take the intruder to Nalbina," he heard the guard command. Then someone hit him again and he was left unconscious.

Balthier awoke on the dusty cell floor. He was brought back to consciousness by something tugging at his side. His lids fluttered open, and he saw a dodgy-looking man bending over one of his bags. Once his lids where open, however, the thief dropped it instantly and ran. Had he made such an impression last time that people were still scared of him? That would certainly be an advantage when he broke out. He sat up and brushed the dust of his sleeves. Just when you need a Viera, he thought, as he looked around and made his way to what he knew to be the exit.

***

Ashe was gazing absentmindedly out the window as she waited for the meeting to begin. She did her best to keep focused, but the memory of her "wedding night" still haunted her.

Amaranth, who sat beside her at the end of the table, lightly nudged her arm. "What are you doing here?"

She glanced up in surprise, a look of defiance on her face. "I'm meeting with my advisors."

He stared at her for a moment before answering, "Well, you don't have to anymore. That will be my task, as I am now regent of Dalmasca."

She could not believe she hadn't thought of it, and it was her own ignorance more than anything that contributed to her rage. Somehow she had led herself to believe that they would rule side by side. But in this world of men, it had been difficult enough to govern even when she was the sole ruler. The anger and frustration almost made her cry. At the same time she smiled a manic smile at the irony of it all. As the room filled with her advisors, none of them seemed to notice her presence. It was hard to keep her dignity as she stood up to leave. She could probably have gotten away with staying, judging by her sudden invisibility. Nevertheless, she walked out, leaving the men to their power play and quarrelling.

One of the worst things about the marriage, she contemplated while striding through the palace, was that she had lost her sanctuary. Her chambers had been her only refuge. She had been safe there. Safe and alone. But now that it had become public area (or at least, that was what it felt like), she would have to make do with the next best thing.

The grand door creaked as she pushed it open and revealed the dark shelves and dusty books of the library. It had been her father's favourite place, but it was now untouched with an air of neglect. It was dark, and she needed to light a candle to be able to orientate herself. Ashe was not really sure what she was doing here. All she knew was that she needed to be alone; so she sank down on the closest pile of books, resting her head in her palms. There, alone in the dark, she let the regret consume her completely.

He had offered her freedom. Balthier had come back, after all her pleas, and offered everything she had ever wanted. And had she not been completely aware of her duty to Dalmasca she would have let him steal her. Now she had no duty, except that of a wife. Once again it was too late. She had gotten her second chance and wasted it. She thought about this over and over. The hours passed, and every muscle hurt from sitting so still. In the end, the heavy air got to her, and she began to feel lightheaded. With stiff, inelegant motions she got up and left. Once outside, however, she nearly turned around again.

A little group of ministers had gathered and stood whispering in confidence. She was in no fit state to handle their insults, so she began to walk quickly past, when suddenly a name caught her ear. "That's right. Balthier, or whatever he calls himself. He has avoided capture for quite some time now. And believe it or not, they found him on the roof. With that level of stupidity, it's surprising they have not caught him sooner."

The other ministers grunted their agreement.

"So he's Nalbina now, I expect?" another minister asked.

"Yes," the first one replied. "Awaiting his execution."

It was all she needed to hear to make up her mind. No more doubts or regrets. No more wasted chances. If only she could reach him in time.

***

She stood there waiting for him as he knew she would. Elegance, beauty and power in every curve. Ever loyal and at his service. No, he contemplated, no woman could ever match The Strahl. He had left the others in Balfornheim, so the ship was empty and dark. And even though the escape had left him with a number of wounds and injuries, he was glad to be alone. After all, he did still have some pride left. He walked across the platform, readjusting the bandage on his upper arm as he went. His concentration was therefore divided, and he didn't notice that the hangar was not empty. But standing in front of the entrance, about to board the ship, he sensed a motion behind him, and spun on his heel.

There was a woman in the midst of the hangar. Her pale hair seemed like silver in the moonlight. The wind caught a strand of it, and tugged playfully. Her thin figure was out of the ridiculous dress, and she once again wore the skimpy skirt and top that had first made her catch his eye. The sight was so endearingly familiar and yet changed by the last nights events. He walked a few steps closer, taking in her face. She looked so uncertain, but the blaze in her eyes told him that she had made up her mind. She only doubted if he could forgive her.

"I never want to ask you to come back again," she said, voice strained.

She was by his side within seconds, pulling his face down, and kissed him fiercely.

As Balthier took her hand and pulled her after him into the waiting cabin, he contemplated how he could ever have even compared an airship with this woman.


End file.
